Chapter 210

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 210
Chapter Title: What Cannot Be Disposed Of
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The place Ariadne went to meet Greta was the annex of the Rambouillet Almshouse.

It was where those suspected of being infected with the black plague were quarantined. Greta was the first confirmed case to be housed in the annex.

“Can you hear me?”

At Ariadne's voice, the girl who had the window open answered in surprise.

“My lady… I didn't think you would actually come.”

Greta looked down from her room with a window on the second floor of the annex at Ariadne standing in the garden. She was a short, lovely girl.

Her skin, with its faint freckles, would normally have glowed with a pinkish hue.

The girl, who surely would have been encouraging those around her with a cheerful voice, now stood pale-faced by the window, a worn shawl over her shoulders as she faced the cold wind.

“How are you feeling?”

Ariadne shivered as she asked.

She couldn't tell if she was trembling from the cold wind or shuddering at her own pretense.

How could she be fine when she had the black plague?

Greta had been suffering from cold-like symptoms and had coughed up blood for the first time yesterday.

That meant the girl had over a ninety percent chance of dying within the next ten days.

“I'm better than I thought. I can still move. Do I look very sick?”

Ariadne smiled and shook her head.

“No, not really.”

She thought it was a customary question from a patient concerned about their appearance.

But Greta had another reason for bringing it up.

“As for why I asked for you, thank you so much for coming. To such a dangerous place…”

“There are people like you, Greta, working on the front lines. If I called this dangerous, I would have no shame.”

Greta smiled brightly.

“I've never met a noble lady like you.”

Ariadne thought, *Well, that's because I'm not a noble,* but didn't bother to correct her.

“You know, my lady. I wanted to thank you.”

“…For what?”

*She's about to die because of me, and she wants to thank me?*

“You were the first person to tell me that someone like me could do something.”

Greta was an exceptionally bright girl. Though they had been face-to-face for less than ten minutes, Ariadne could see it at a glance.

“My late mother… my father who sold me… they always called me a useless wench. No, was it just my parents?”

As soon as Ariadne heard Greta's story, she understood what she was talking about.

A girl from a poor family, if not supported by her parents, would receive nothing but mistreatment and neglect her entire life.

Unless she was of high birth or had exceptional beauty to secure a good marriage, her life was destined for simple labor like assisting on a farm, doing chores inside and out, supporting an ordinary man, and bearing his children. Nothing more than an unremarkable existence.

And for a girl destined for such work, it was better to break her spirit from a young age to make her more obedient.

There was no need to coddle her, encourage her ambition, or nurture any aspirations.

“There are… many people like that.”

For the first time in a long while, Ariadne recalled her days at the Bergamo farm.

Perhaps enough time had passed to wash away the grime, for the people she had hated so intensely back then were now just faint memories.

She remembered the old woman who had been sent to the next world by Lucrezia's hand. Her name was Gian Galeazzo.

But the feelings of injustice and resentment, the willingness to risk her life for revenge, were still vivid in her mind.

That thirst for vengeance had been the driving force of her life.

“It wasn't even that they were putting me down for being incompetent. If I were truly lacking, I would have accepted it, however unfair. But they'd say things like, 'Everyone from the Rambouillet Almshouse is lazy,' or 'This is why women are useless,' or 'Come back when you're twenty'…”

The most unfair thing in the world is being perfectly capable of something but being prevented from even starting by someone else's arbitrary restrictions.

“There were certainly people who said nice things. I mean, of course, it's a blessing if they at least speak prettily.”

Greta gave a mischievous smile.

“One of the noble ladies who came to volunteer the other day told me, 'You're so pretty, you'll surely do well. You should find a fine husband, like a knight or a merchant! What worries could you have at your young age? I'm old now, so there's nothing I can do.'”

She was probably referring to the Silver Cross Ladies' Association that Isabella used to be part of.

The Silver Cross Ladies' Association regularly volunteered at the Rambouillet Almshouse.

Judging by the comment about age, it must have been Baroness Loredan.

“Does that lady think poor people don't have mirrors? I mean, I know well enough just by looking at my reflection in a brass bowl that I'm not that pretty. And then she had the nerve to sit me down and gossip about how the incredibly beautiful, blonde noble girl who came with her was actually hideous if you looked closely. It was so ridiculous I couldn't even laugh!”

It was the Silver Cross Ladies' Association, then. The pretty blonde girl must have been Isabella.

Ariadne let out a dry laugh. *My sister gets criticized even there.*

“And then she tells me *I'll* do well because *I'm* so pretty. It was absurd! So I asked her.”

Greta squared her mouth and mimicked the voice in a mocking tone.

“Your esteemed ladyship, in that case, where should I go and what should I do to find the handsome husband you speak of? I'm trapped in the Rambouillet Almshouse and can't leave, so please, your grace, help me get out!”

As she vented her frustrations with gusto, not a trace of sickness could be seen on Greta's face.

“And what do you know, she ran off without a second glance!”

*Of course, she did.* Sweet words are easy. Shallow comfort is even easier.

“There are plenty of nobles who run their mouths, saying 'Everything will be fine,' 'It'll all work out,' 'We love the poor,' but there's almost no one who will actually open their own purse to make things better. So I thought you would be the same, my lady.”

Greta looked straight at Ariadne.

“I thought you'd just bring some scraps of bread, hand them out condescendingly, receive some praise, and go home.”

Ariadne gave a bitter smile. If she hadn't had other motives, she wouldn't have distributed grain.

Greta's sharp tongue didn't stop.

“Even when the carts of grain started rolling into the almshouse after you left, I thought something similar. *This arrogant, lucky noble girl must have a lot of money. She can afford to spend like this because she's rich. What a charmed life.* That's what I thought.”

From the second-floor window, Greta gazed down at Ariadne.

Ariadne was wearing the wax-coated outer garment and linen face covering worn by plague doctors.

Those two items were the same ones issued to the nurses at the Rambouillet Almshouse.

But the air of nobility that flowed from beneath them could not be hidden.

She had left all her accessories behind, but her flowing, ebony hair and her flawless, clear skin were visible.

That was skin a common woman who worked under the scorching sun could never have.

Amidst it all, a dark green jeweled ribbon tied in her black hair was strikingly eye-catching.

It was a luxury item one might see at the royal palace. The shawl visible around her collar was meticulously woven from lamb's wool.

The difference in class from her own worn-out shawl was stark.

Ariadne and Greta were peers, only a year or two apart. It was impossible not to feel a surge of intense jealousy.

“…”

Greta thought about how easy it would be to hate Ariadne.

Many of her friends from the almshouse who had become nurses with her also hated Ariadne.

They said the noble lady who wasn't even a real noble was putting on airs, sending only them into the jaws of death while taking all the praise for herself—a selfish brat who acted all high and mighty without lifting a finger.

Their complaints subsided only briefly, once a week, when their daily wages were paid.

But Greta didn't want to curse Ariadne as easily as her giggling friends did.

Because the woman before her had presented them with the possibility of leaving this damned almshouse.

“But then… you actually created jobs for us. Real, prime positions that people all over the country are looking for. When people offer us jobs, it's always for chores or maid's work; a good position like this never comes our way. Not once, since this almshouse was founded.”

The almshouse nurses were in such high demand that they were constantly being requested for dispatch.

Many of the girls worried they would lose their jobs once the great plague ended, but Greta was among the more optimistic.

San Carlo—no, the central continent—was a land where epidemics never ceased, even without the black plague.

Periodically, something would make the rounds, be it cholera, yellow fever, or even a cattle plague. Disease control experts were always needed.

When she was thinking that knowing a foreign language would open up more opportunities, she confided in Sancha, who replied nonchalantly.

- “Gallican? You can just learn it. Our lady taught me how to read and write and even how to manage account books.”

Sancha had replied with a smile.

The problem would be not having time to learn—or more accurately, just wanting to lie down and sleep after work—not finding a teacher.

Lady Ariadne was not one to spare any support for her people.

“I had a dream.”

A dream that I could become someone important.

A dream of becoming an epidemic expert, working across the central continent, where my decisions would affect the lives of many, where my judgment would determine matters of state, and where my opinions and insights would be respected and admired.

Greta had been living in a country village when her father sold her to some old man for fifty florins, which was how she ended up in the capital.

She thought her job was just to serve the family and do chores, but soon realized that 'serving' also included attending to the widowed old man at night.

For Greta, who had hastily fled only to end up trapped in the Rambouillet Almshouse, it was a dream that bordered on delusion.

“I don't want it to end like this.”

Tears streamed down Greta's face.

It was the first emotional turmoil shown by Greta, who had been so cheerful, as if the plague were happening to someone else.

“I dreamed of becoming something. A dream of becoming a great… person.”

She felt embarrassed even as she said the word.

But Lady Ariadne might be the last person Greta ever spoke to before she died.

So Greta mustered her courage and uttered the word.

If things went as she had imagined, she might even be remembered in the history books.

'Greta, the first female doctor of the Kingdom of Etruscan.' The title changed slightly each time, but whatever the profession, she had become it more than twenty times over in her imagination.

“…If I'm going to die anyway, I want to do something before I go.”

Taking a deep breath, Greta looked at Ariadne.

“I heard you're planning to spread the plague in the Gallican army. And that you're trying to figure out how.”

The girl, whose skin was a mix of freckles and a few pimples appropriate for her age, spoke in a firm tone, enunciating each and every word.

“I. Will go.”

When Ariadne didn't answer right away, Greta added.

“I can do it better than anyone. I'm an infectious disease expert now. What we do is to prevent the disease, so to spread it, we just have to do the opposite, right?”

Greta raised her voice at the still-silent Ariadne. Her tone was urgent, as if she feared refusal.

“I'm young and I'm a girl, so I can easily get into the military camp! They won't be suspicious of me!”

Until then, Ariadne had been listening to Greta in silence.

Moonlight shone down from above, casting Ariadne's face in shadow, making it difficult for Greta to gauge her expression. Greta pressed again.

“Let me go! I will go! Please, let me do *something*!”

*Let me leave something behind. A trace that I lived.*

“…Greta.”

Ariadne lifted her head and looked up at Greta. Her face was drenched in tears.

“I… I can't bring myself to tell you to go.”